


Snapshots of Life

by Kienova



Category: Call the Midwife
Genre: F/M, fluffy starter prompts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-20
Updated: 2016-05-20
Packaged: 2018-06-09 15:08:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 6,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6912214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kienova/pseuds/Kienova
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Collection of short segments surrounding Patrick and Shelagh based on sentence starter prompts from tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Take my jacket

**_“Take my jacket,”_** Patrick said, looking down at the young woman who was shivering profusely. He’d been on a quick walk between patients in order to clear his head and was heading back to his car when he caught sight of a commotion at the water’s edge, a burly figure nearly catapulting a much smaller one into the river before taking off down the riverbank.  By the time he made it across the road and down onto the bank the smaller figure had pulled herself out of the water, flopping down onto the rocks, coughing profusely as she expelled the fluid from her lungs.

“You’ll freeze,” she contradicted his offer, teeth chattering, water dripping from her prayer veil and into her face.

“Sister, you’ve just fallen into the Thames in November, I think _you_ freezing is my bigger concern right now. Come along, I’m a doctor,” he insisted, wrapping his coat around her shoulders, gently helping her to her feet. “Are you from Nonnatus?”

“Yes,” she replied, practically shaking apart from the cold as he ushered her up the river bank and into his car, turning the engine over and flicking on the heater. He regarded her carefully as he put the car into drive. She was young, of that much he had already been certain, but now that he could see her properly he noticed how her lips were practically blue from the cold. Blindly he reached into the back seat, yanking a blanket into the front and passing it to her, watching how she used chilled fingers to pull it over herself.

“Are you hurt?” Patrick asked, worry clouding his mind. She had seemed all right, aside from the approaching hypothermia if he wasn’t careful, but he needed her assurance.

“Yes,” she chattered. “I’m sorry for taking you away from your patients Doctor?”

“Turner,” he said. “And I’m sorry Sister, I didn’t catch your name? I know almost all the midwives at Nonnatus but I’m guessing you’re new to the order?”

“I am,” she confirmed, eyes half lidded, struggling to stay awake against the cold. “My name is Sister Bernadette.”


	2. Can you open this for me?

**_“Can you... Can you open this for me?”_** Patrick looked up from the file he was reading at the question, finding the young nun standing only a foot away, a jar in her hands. She wasn’t meeting his eyes, instead focusing on the tile floor of the parish hall.

“Of course,” he replied, holding his hand out until she placed the container in his palm. As he gripped the glass he took in her features. Blue eyes, fair skin, her bottom lip caught between her teeth; she looked much healthier and alive than the last time he had seen her, swaddled in blankets and under the care of Sister Evangelina who was attempting to ward off the last effects of the woman’s hypothermia with a cup of broth and a lit fire. “How are you fairing since –?”

“I’m all right, thank you,” she answered, fidgeting with the edge of her scapular. “How are you?”

“Exhausted,” he responded, smiling, passing her the opened jar. “I’ve a six month old at home. Sleep is a thing of the past.”

“I’m sure you’re a wonderful father,” she instantly blurted, skin flushing at her own comment. She was still learning the nuances of being in the religious order; that she was to obey the others, that she was to control her comments and feelings, that she was supposed to keep herself from thinking that the rugged doctor, who was evidently married and had a child, was one of the most attractive people she had ever seen in her life.

“I hope so. I often feel like I’m doing everything wrong. My wife can get the baby to settle but nearly every time he’s with me he’s constantly wailing,” he confessed, a self-deprecating smile on his lips.

“You’ll be fine. I’ve seen the way you care for people first hand. You took care of me before Christmas extremely well, I’m sure you treat your son with the utmost love and devotion,” she whispered. “Thank you for opening this.” She swept from the room then, wishing that her heart wasn’t hammering in her chest. She didn’t see the gentle smile on Patrick’s face at her retreating form, his confidence swelling from the simple words.


	3. I'd do anything for you

**_“I’d give anything for you,”_** she said the words quietly, not willing to breathe them any louder for fear of being overheard in the silence of the convent. Doctor Turner was curled up on the sofa in the sitting room, awaiting cleaned instruments from the autoclave, Timothy coiled into his father’s side, both of them asleep. It was late, nearing eleven at night, and she wondered how long they had been there. She struggled against her own mind, so desperate to go sit with them, to cuddle into the other side of Patrick’s chest, to feel his heartbeat beneath her ear while tracking Timothy’s breathing beneath her palm, the one that still bore the scar that tingled with the memory of Patrick’s lips against her skin. She had just come back from a call, intending to clean her own instruments and retire to bed when she found them, her heart seizing at the sight.

With a quiet sigh she moved through the hallway, dropping her instruments in the clinical room and making sure the doctor’s were carefully ensconced in his bag once again, tiptoeing back to the sitting room and depositing the bag on the floor near his feet. With gentle movements she grabbed a blanket off the back of one of the chairs, unfolding it before tenderly spreading it across father and son. She couldn’t help but relish in the moment to see the doctor so relaxed, the lines on his face smoothed out in sleep, his bangs falling into his eyes, chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. Without conscious consent she found herself reaching forward, stroking the hair out of his face, closing her eyes at the softness of the dark strands between her fingertips.

“Sister?” The soft call from Sister Julienne startled her, making her wrench her hand back, tucking it into the folds of her habit. She slipped out into the hall, unable to meet the older woman’s eyes, fearing that her cheeks would be flaming at being caught. “Is everything all right?” Sister Julienne pressed.

“I thought it would be best to... to give them a blanket. It can be quite chilly down here during the night. And... and I didn’t have the heart to wake them,” Sister Bernadette rushed, her heart pounding in her chest.

“A wise and kind decision. Get some rest Sister, you’ve earned it,” Sister Julienne instructed, motioning towards the stairs before heading into the kitchen. Sister Bernadette tossed one glance back towards the sitting room, noting how Patrick pulled Timothy closer to him in slumber, dropping a kiss on the boy’s head. She took a deep breath, closing her eyes against the emotions that rushed through her before she ran up the stairs.


	4. God you're so beautiful

**_“God, you’re so beautiful.”_** Patrick whispered. Shelagh cracked her eyes open, blushing at the comment. She was unsure how to respond to such a thing, still so new at everything in that moment. She allowed herself to be kissed as Patrick leaned over her, pressing his lips to hers as one of his hands ghosted down her side, cupping her hip, a soft breeze blowing through the open window, rustling the curtains and sending the gentle scent of hyacinth from her bridal bouquet floating through the room.

“Will it always be like this?” she asked, breathless already.

“Like what?” he queried, trailing kisses down her neck, nipping at her collarbone, sucking a mark into the skin there and making her gasp, desire instantly igniting within her, flames licking from her toes to her belly to her chest.

“Like my entire body is on fire the moment you kiss me,” she muttered, still shy of her reactions to him. He chuckled.

“I hope so,” he answered, tongue tracing down from her shoulder to her chest, drawing a whimper from her. “I’d like to think I’ll always be able to light a spark within you Mrs. Turner.” Hearing her new moniker caused a burst of love to bloom within her heart, her hands tangling in Patrick’s hair and dragging him up to her face, kissing him passionately. The feeling of his naked skin against hers sent tingles through her entire body as she wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him tightly to her, relishing in the feeling of his weight cradled between her hips.

“I don’t think you’ll have a problem,” she breathed, her composure dissolving into gasps and moans as he brought them together as man and wife for the second time. He was learning quickly that she would be the one to light a fire in him at every kiss as well.  


	5. You waited for me all this time?

**_“You waited for me all this time?”_** Patrick’s words escaped him before he could rein them in, finding his wife curled in one of the hard plastic chairs in the waiting area of the London. She yawned, taking her glasses off so that she could rub her eyes as she stood, stumbling into his chest as she tried to find her balance.

“I wanted to make sure everything was all right,” Shelagh replied, righting herself. “Mrs. Shepherd was so poorly when you and Dr. Clyde took her into surgery. Did she and the baby make it?”

“Yes, thank God,” Patrick answered, wrapping his arm around Shelagh’s shoulder and pulling her into his side as he led her out into the cool night air. “I can’t believe you’ve been sat there for four hours. You could have gone home Love.”

“I didn’t want you to be alone if things hadn’t turned out,” she confessed, pulling her cardigan tighter around her. He opened her door, crouching down to press a quick kiss to her lips once she was seated in the car.

“I’m so lucky to have you,” Patrick said, smiling.

“You might get even luckier if you get us some dinner on the way home,” she teased, laughing when he hastily shut her door and bolted around the car.

“Fish and chips all right?”

“Perfect.”  


	6. Come here you've got crumbs on your face

**_“Come here, you’ve got crumbs on your face,”_** Shelagh said, reaching across the table to attempt to brush said crumbs from her son’s face.

“Mum!” Timothy whined, leaning back in an attempt to escape, scrubbing his own face with the cuff of his sleeve. Shelagh managed to catch his shoulder, taking her napkin and removing the residue from the toast. Patrick, for his part, was trying to hide his grin behind his tea cup, loving the perturbed look that was gracing his son’s face while his wife played her role as somewhat overprotective mother. Since Timothy had regained some of his freedom through his increased mobility, Shelagh had taken to other ways of caring for the boy, such as the action he was currently observing.

“Tim, why don’t you go wash up and then go outside, it’s a nice morning,” Patrick suggested, realising that an intervention was needed before his wife fell into a tizzy of mothering. Timothy was up the stairs instantly at his father’s proposal, leaving Shelagh holding her napkin against thin air.

“I’m being overbearing again, aren’t I?” she asked, shoulders sagging in defeat as she dropped her hand back into her lap. Patrick stood, rounding the table until he could sit in Timothy’s vacated chair, cupping Shelagh’s cheek in his hand.

“You’re doing fine my Love. He’s just still getting used to having a mother again. Remember, all he had before you came into our lives was me and we both know I’m not exactly the most... attentive of parents,” Patrick said, causing her to smile slightly.

“Ugh,” Timothy groused, rounding the corner just as Patrick leaned in and placed a gently kiss on Shelagh’s lips. “I’ll take you cleaning my face over having to witness that any day, Mum.”   


	7. I am not a cutie pie. I am a bad ass.

**_“I am not a cutie pie. I am a bad ass!”_** the words are yelled, punctuated by the sound of a table being hit, a lamp crashing to the floor and a spill of expletives.

“You are a drunkard,” Patrick said, rolling his eyes as he heaved his wife off the floor, attempting to carry her upstairs to bed. She fought against him for a moment before moaning, burying her face in his neck.

“Why is the world spinning?” she questioned, suddenly clinging to him like he was the only thing keeping her from breaking apart. In a way, he supposed he was, finally clearing the landing and shoving their bedroom door open with his foot.

“You’ve had a little too much to drink Love,” he explained, depositing her on the bed and brushing her hair out of her face. “Have you ever even had more than one glass of wine before tonight?” She shook her head, immediately regretting it and letting out a groan at how dizziness overwhelmed her.

“Why is it so hot?” Shelagh demanded, trying with unsteady hands to take her blouse off. Patrick batted her hands away, carefully parting the fabric for her. He knew letting her go out with the nurses was a way for her to become better integrated with the side of Nonnatus that wasn’t part of a religious order; he just hadn’t anticipated the number of drinks Trixie would end up buying them all. He watched his wife flop back on the bed, her eyes screwed shut.  “I don’t feel well,” she whimpered, grabbing for his hand with trembling fingers. 

“I know,” Patrick placated, stroking her knuckles. “You’re going to feel poorly for a little while. Then I’m going to tease you mercilessly for getting drunk, you silly woman.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead, standing up to retrieve the wastepaper basket for when the rest of Shelagh’s drinking caught up with her. “And for the record, if you are a ‘bad-ass’, whatever that may be to you, you’re a cute one of those as well.”


	8. My sleeping beauty

**_“My sleeping beauty,”_** Patrick mused, eyes watching Angela as she slept, the tiny fingers flexing against the fabric of her blanket. She had only been theirs for five days, but he couldn’t imagine life without her. It was still early, the sun just creeping over the edge of the tenement flats a few blocks away, but he couldn’t sleep anymore. They were having Angela christened that afternoon, and although he assumed Shelagh would have been awake long before him, his wife defied his assumptions yet again, still being curled up on the other side of the bed.

As if sensing his thoughts about her he felt Shelagh curl into his back, her arm sliding around his ribs as she leaned over his shoulder, watching him catch Angela’s hand with a finger, her own little digits clenching around him. Shelagh didn’t say anything, just clung to him, glad that their daughter was close enough that she could make out the majority of her features without her glasses.

“We should get up soon,” Patrick commented after a while, eyes still transfixed on the infant.

“Just a few more minutes won’t hurt,” Shelagh countered, nuzzling against his arm, eyes slipping shut. She couldn’t help but bask in the serenity of the bedroom, thinking how it could only be more perfect if Timothy was with them as well. “Patrick... I’d like her middle name to be Julienne.” He smiled, leaning forward and pressing a kiss on Angela’s forehead, chuckling softly as the baby squirmed, the blue eyes of infancy opening and looking up at him, trying to focus on his features. Shelagh moved her hand from where it lay on Patrick’s chest, resting it on Angela’s abdomen.

“I think that sounds beautiful, Angela Julienne,” he replied, laughing when Angela scrunched up her nose before starting to whimper. “I think she needs feeding.” Shelagh dropped a kiss to Patrick’s shoulder before extracting herself from the bed, donning her dressing gown. “You get the milk heated and I’ll bring her downstairs?”

“Of course. Come on Angel girl, let’s get you some breakfast.”


	9. Oh hush, I'm feeding you and that's final.

**_“Oh hush, I’m feeding you and that’s final,”_** Shelagh scolded gently, trying to get Angela to take the bottle. The baby cried, trying to wriggle from her mother’s arms, desperate to crawl around on the ground and get into mischief rather than have her supper, despite how she had been wailing for the last hour, evidently hungry. Shelagh took a steadying breath, trying to calm her frayed nerves. She had barely gotten any sleep the past few nights as Angela had a tooth attempting to break through.

“I should be saying that to you,” Patrick commented, coming into the sitting room, finding that Shelagh still hadn’t managed to finish her own tea, instead having spent the last half hour after he and Timothy had finished eating attempting to feed their daughter. Shelagh looked up at him, biting her lip, dark circles under her eyes.

“I just don’t know how to soothe her,” she whispered, fighting against her exhaustion. Patrick knelt in front of her, gently pressing his finger into Angela’s mouth until he could find the swollen gum, the tooth barely breaking the surface. At the slight friction, Angela stopped sobbing, whimpering instead, as Patrick took Shelagh’s hand, guiding the bottle into the baby’s mouth. She instantly started suckling, her breath hitching as she relaxed against Shelagh’s chest, tiny fists clinging to her mother’s dress.

“There we go Angel girl,” Patrick said, stroking Angela’s hair as he stood up, taking in the relieved expression on Shelagh’s face. “Now, why don’t we get Mummy fed too, hmm?” he grinned, picking up the discarded fork from the table and collecting a bit of Shelagh’s lukewarm supper, holding it out to her. Shelagh rolled her eyes, accepting the offered food regardless.

“You’re ridiculous,” she muttered once she had chewed and swallowed. “Thank you.” Patrick smiled down at her, dropping a kiss to her forehead, repeating the process while Angela finished her bottle, falling asleep on her mother’s lap.   



	10. You're so warm

**_“You’re so warm.”_** Shelagh murmured, frowning as she pressed her hand to her husband’s forehead, taking in his flushed complexion and glassy eyes.

“I’m fine,” Patrick protested, trying to shake her off and go back to work. He had to close his eyes when he finally managed to dislodge her hand, his head spinning from the simple action. She looked anything but convinced.

“I’m getting the thermometer,” she said, leaving the room in a flurry of blue and white fabric, returning almost instantly with a thermometer, shaking the mercury to the base so that it would read properly.

“Shelagh, I’m –” He didn’t get to finish his sentence, the woman shoving the glass tube into his mouth and beneath his tongue, smirking at her success, knowing that although he wasn’t happy about it, he wouldn’t spit the device out, nor would he bite it.

“If you’re so fine, then this will be normal and you can tell me I’m a worry wart,” she replied, leaning against the edge of his desk and keeping an eye on her watch. Patrick huffed, crossing his arms across his chest like a petulant child, leaning back in his chair and glaring at his wife. He cringed, feeling himself sweating slightly beneath his shirt, a shiver running through him as Shelagh pulled the thermometer from his mouth. “You’re going home Patrick,” she instructed, running her hand through his hair, noticing how he relaxed into her touch, eyes fluttering shut. “You’ve a fever. You need to be in bed.”

“I’m all right,” he grumbled.

“Home. Bed. Now. No arguments.” She said, getting his coat and holding it up for him. “Do you need me to drive you?” Patrick rolled his eyes, shrugging his coat on and getting his bag.

“I’m not that sick,” he groused.


	11. I'm glad you're back

**_“I’m glad you’re back.”_** The words are said so quietly Patrick nearly missed them in the darkness of the bedroom. Shelagh was lying with her head on his chest, her ear over his heart, playing with one of the buttons on his pyjama top. He frowned, about to ask her where he has meant to have gone, when he realised she was talking about his mental state. He was still in awe of his wife’s strength and abilities in having taken over the surgery while also running their house while he had fallen into a pit of despair and self-deprecating depression.

“I’m glad I’m back too,” he whispered, kissing the crown of her head while pulling her even more tightly against him, only then really feeling the warmth from her tears that had started collecting in the fabric of his shirt.

“I was so scared I was going to lose you,” Shelagh confessed, voice hitching as her emotions took over. “I will never fault you or scold you for needing help or for feeling like you did, you’ve done nothing wrong, you were simply ill, but I was so scared Patrick.”  At the admission she scrambled completely on top of him, face in his neck as she clung to him, peppering kisses and love bites over his jugular.

“I promise I will never leave you,” Patrick breathed, hands pushing up under her nightgown until he could stroke the soft skin of her back. “You are the most amazing woman Shelagh, I’ve no idea how I got so lucky to have someone like you in my life. I would be an utter fool to ever leave you.” She seemed to relax at his words, no longer seeming frantic and desperate as the energy seeped out of her, her weight settling on his torso.

“I’m sure Timothy would track you down for me if you ever tried,” she joked, yawning widely before dissolving into giggles, snuggling into his side as the last vestiges of her adrenalin fled.    
  
“Get some sleep love, you’re exhausted,” he scolded her lightly, drifting off to the sound of her soft breathing in his ear.


	12. You're giving me a toothache with all your sweetness

**_“You’re giving me a toothache with all your sweetness,”_** Patrick slurred, a sappy grin spreading across his face as he tried to grab Shelagh as she walked past the end of the bed.

“No, dear, your toothache has been taken care of, you’ve just been to the dentist, remember?” she replied, taking a deep breath so as to steady her own nerves. The medication that the dentist had given Patrick had apparently impacted him a little more than anyone had anticipated, his slurred speech and strange antics a side effect of the pain killers.

“But you’re so wonderful,” he insisted, again trying to catch her and accidentally sliding partially off the mattress, grunting when his shoulder hit the floor.

“Oh for goodness sake,” Shelagh groaned, heaving him back up off the floor.

“Mum, is everything all right?” Timothy asked, popping his head in the door, Angela balanced on his hip.

“Children!” Patrick exclaimed, starting towards the other side of the bed until Shelagh grabbed the hem of his shirt, holding him back.

“Your father is just having an adverse reaction to the medicine from the dentist. He should be fine in an hour or so. Tim, could you please keep an eye on Angela? I don’t think its a good idea for me to leave your father alone right now,” she sighed, having to put all her weight into keeping Patrick from falling off the bed again. Timothy nodded, taking one more look at Patrick and shaking his head, taking his leave from the room, Angela’s giggles echoing after their departure.

“Shelaghhhh,” Patrick whined, rolling over so that he was facing her, his limbs seeming to struggle to cooperate with him. Without warning he reached up and pulled her down to the mattress, tugging her until she was on his chest, his nose buried in her hair.

“Oh for goodness sake,” she muttered again, deciding that maybe it was just better to keep her husband happy and lie with him until the medication wore off.


	13. You're so adorable when you blush

**_"You’re so adorable when you blush,”_** Patrick grinned, kissing his way down Shelagh’s neck, loving the way her fingers clenched in the fabric of his shirt, not letting him move away from her even if wanted to. He didn’t want to. Ever.

“I... oh hush,” she murmured, biting her lip as she tried to stifle a sound of arousal in the back of her throat at the sensation of his teeth scraping over her collarbone, his nose pushing the fabric of her blouse further down her shoulder. His hand moved from the couch cushion to her thigh, pads of his fingers pressing into her skin as he slowly slid his way under the hem of her skirt. She let out a whimper at the feeling, unconsciously spreading her legs, pulling him closer to her. He chuckled, sucking a mark into her shoulder as he laid her back against the sofa, her skirt riding up higher on her hips as he settled between her thighs, fingers slipping to the buttons on her blouse, flicking the first few open. She groaned, tangling her fingers in his hair as his mouth moved down to the top of her breast, leaving a love bite on the tender skin, her hips rocking against him.

“Shhh,” he admonished, trying to see how far he could push her in her arousal before her volume rose. He felt her tiny fingers move to his hips, yanking his shirt from his trousers, warm palms stroking up and down his back.

“You shhh,” Shelagh countered, biting her lip at the feeling of his arousal pressing against her, his own hips picking up shallow movements. He grinned, sitting her up slightly so he could remove her blouse, his own shirt following a second later with the loss of only one button. He looked down at her, noticing how her blush had spread from her cheeks down to her neck and upper chest, her breasts heaving as she sucked in air. The mark he had left on her was already purpling, sending a bolt of possessiveness through him.

“I’m going to take you right here,” Patrick growled, fingers pressing into her hips. She responded with a soft whimper, yanking open his trousers and settling her legs about his hips.

“Then take me,” she replied.


	14. You're so cute when you pout

**_“You’re so cute when you pout,”_** Patrick mused, watching Shelagh scowl at her wardrobe. He was sprawled on their bed, still in his dressing gown, with the Lancet on the duvet beside him, his head propped up by his arm. His attention was not on the journal however; instead it was completely on his wife.

“Shush,” she grumbled, tossing another dress into the growing pile on the bedroom floor, a frustrated sigh escaping her. Patrick tracked her movements with his eyes, noting how she didn’t even bother with some of the clothes, instantly dropping them onto the ground while attempting to wiggle into some while still in her nightdress, the fabric rustling with every angry movement she made.

“What’s wrong Love?” he finally questioned after the fourth skirt went sailing out of the wardrobe.

“Nothing fits,” Shelagh moaned, dropping down into the chair by the vanity and burying her face in her hands. “I thought I had a little more time to get some new clothes, but apparently that has changed overnight.” She stood up again, taking her nightgown off and dropping it to the floor, twisting and turning in front of the vanity mirror, a frown on her face. “Oh,” she breathed a second later, seeing how her lower abdomen was now protruding a little. She palpitated the skin, feeling the tension of her muscles, blinking at her reflection.

“You’re showing,” Patrick grinned, sitting up to get a better look at her before he swung his feet over the edge of the bed, crossing the room to stand behind her.

“I am,” she exhaled, amazement in her voice as she cradled the tiny bump with her palm, expression no longer twisted with anger but instead full of awe. He rested his head on her shoulder, covering the back of her hand with his, lacing their fingers together. “There’s really a baby in there,” she whispered. Patrick beamed at her, turning her and pulling her into a kiss, one hand tangling in her hair while the other rested on her naked hip.

“Yes,” he agreed. “There is.”


	15. How do you always manage to make me feel better?

**_“How do you always manage to make me feel better?”_** Shelagh asked, shivering against the edge of the bath as Patrick gently dabbed at her forehead with a damp flannel.

“I’m a doctor, it’s my job,” he replied, noting how pale she was, perspiration dotting her neck. “I wish I could give you something to make you feel better but...”

“Shhh, I know,” she rushed, grabbing his free hand and squeezing it weakly. She had to let go a second later, lurching forward and vomiting again, her back heaving as she gagged into the toilet.

“That’s it, you’re all right,” Patrick whispered, rubbing her shoulders as she gasped, coughing before falling back against his chest. “I hate seeing you so poorly,” he said, kissing her sweaty temple. She turned her head, burying her face in his neck.

“I’m not too happy about it either,” she teased, voice raw. “But I know that it is necessary and will be more than worth it in the end.” She took his hand, placing it on her stomach, letting him rub gentle circles into the skin there, slowly feeling the nausea abating.

“I don’t think your clothes are going to hide your bump anymore,” he mused, cupping her lower abdomen in his hand, the swollen flesh beneath his palm pressing into his hand in a way he hadn’t felt when holding her before.

“You’re going to be insufferable now,” Shelagh sighed, fighting off a smile as she struggled to her feet. “I can just see you now at the clinic, a big goofy grin plastered on your face, showing off how you managed to defy a medical diagnosis and get me pregnant.” She reached for her toothbrush, rolling her eyes at him as he stood and leaned against the counter next to her.

“You wouldn’t have it any other way my Love,” he smiled, kissing her on the cheek before leaving the room.


	16. You’re cute with your chest puffed out like that, acting so tough

**_“You’re cute with your chest puffed out like that, acting so tough.”_** Shelagh was giggling as she said the words, unable to keep a straight face at her husband’s defensiveness. He looked over at her, confused, until he noticed the stance he was in. She was right – he was acting tough he supposed. He couldn’t help it – he constantly felt the need to protect his wife.

“I just want to make sure you’re all right,” he muttered, deflating slightly and returning to her side, sending a glare over his shoulder towards the man who had been getting too close to his wife in an attempt to sell her something. “I worry about you.”

“We’re just fine dear,” she replied, standing on her tiptoes to press a quick kiss to his cheek.

“I know, but what if he had gotten more... forceful with his sales attempts? What if he had knocked you down? What if he had hurt the baby?” Patrick rushed, all of his nervousness finally bubbling over the surface and spilling out of him. Shelagh gave him a smile, taking his hand in hers and tugging him along the road, down towards the river.

“Are you going to be this nervous for the next five months?” Shelagh chuckled as they walked onto the docks. She stopped along the railing, leaning her elbows on the wood and looking out across the water at the boats, Patrick coming up behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist, hands resting protectively over her stomach. Her slight stature had hidden her condition well until the last few days when she had started complaining about her clothes being tighter, a tiny bump appearing at her stomach and making his heart race, knowing that they child was growing beneath her skin.

“Probably,” he finally answered, burying his nose in her hair. She smiled to herself, leaning her weight back into his chest, closing her  eyes.

“That’s all right, seeing you so barbaric is quite attractive if I’m completely honest,” she whispered, loving how he tightened his grip on her.


	17. I missed your fragrance

**_“I missed your fragrance,”_** Patrick murmured, tugging Shelagh back against his chest the minute she climbed back into bed. He had woken up when she left, immediately feeling bereft at the loss of her warmth in his arms, listening to her feet pad across the carpet in the dark, not even bothering to turn on the light as she had gone into the hall.

“I’ve only been gone a moment,” she laughed, letting out a sigh as she felt him press a kiss to her shoulder. “I didn’t know you knew my perfume,” she added as an afterthought, stifling a yawn in the pillow.

“Of course I do,” he replied. “I could pick you out of a crowd blindfolded.”

“Flatterer,” Shelagh scolded, letting out a groan a second later and making Patrick’s chest seize with worry.

“Everything all right?”

“Your child has decided that dancing is now a good idea. It’s bad enough that baby wants to constantly press on my bladder, but now she’s just... bouncing about,” she explained,  elbowing Patrick in the ribs when she felt him start chuckling against her back. He sobered as quickly as he could manage, moving his hand so that he could feel the frantic movements beneath her skin.

“You think its a girl then?” he queried, chin now resting on her shoulder so he could watch her belly jump with movement in the moonlight.

“Mm, I do, yes,” she muttered, trying to get back to sleep. “I don’t care what it is though, as long as its healthy.”

“You’d love another little girl though, wouldn’t you?” he teased, feeling the baby calm from the caresses of his hands.

“Oh hush,” Shelagh said, smiling into the darkness, not wanting to give her husband the satisfaction of her agreement. 

****


	18. You made me breakfast?

**_“You made me breakfast?”_** Shelagh asked, leaning up on her elbows when she noticed her husband standing awkwardly in the doorway, a tray in his hands.

“You’ve been so tired lately, I thought it was the least I could do,” he responded, crossing the threshold into their bedroom and coming to sit at her side. She smiled at the tea and toast on the tray, his concern for her nausea in the mornings evident in his choice of breakfast foods. Even after almost seven months of pregnancy she still often felt sick in the morning, but it came on will less intensity since she hit twenty weeks. She leaned forward, careful not to knock anything over as she kissed him gently.

“Thank you,” she whispered, relaxing into his hand when he cupped her cheek, biting her lip when she felt the baby jump within her belly. “Here,” she said, taking the tray from him and resting it on the night stand, grabbing for his hand and placing it on the patch of skin where the baby was pressing in rhythmic motions. He grinned at the feeling, leaning over her and placing a kiss on her stomach, loving the way he could feel her body shake with laughter at his actions, her hand carding through his hair as he wraps his arms around her, keeping his cheek on her abdomen as he curls onto the edge of the bed.

“Can we just say like this today?” he asked her with a sigh, eyes closing, basking in the feeling of being surrounded by his wife and their blankets, the scent of home permeating the air around them. A crash from downstairs was the immediate answer, Angela’s crying and Timothy’s rushed voice following a split second later. Patrick groaned. “Guess not.” He placed one more kiss on Shelagh’s bump before getting to his feet, tossing her a smile as he left the room. She chuckled, wanting to follow him, to check on the children, but lay back against the pillows instead, picking up one of the pieces of toast and taking a small bite. Patrick was right, she was exhausted.


	19. That's it, I'm picking you up

**_“That’s it, I’m picking you up.”_** Patrick announced, making Shelagh glare at him. She had been fighting a losing battle against the couch cushions for nearly ten minutes by then.

“I do not need to be picked up,” she groused, struggling again to get up from the sofa. He watched her from his armchair, smirking behind his fist until he burst out laughing as she flopped back against the cushions, an exhausted huff spilling from her lips. “Stop it,” she whined, trying to fight the tears that were building up.

“Oh Darling, I’m sorry,” Patrick apologised, still chortling as he stood.

“I just need to go to the bathroom and I can’t even bloody well get off the couch,” Shelagh said, unable to stop herself from crying then. Patrick was instantly next to her, placing a kiss on her forehead as he pulled her up, making sure she was steady on her feet before he let go. “I’m sick of this.”

“You’ve only days left my love, you can do it,” he assured her, his hand rubbing soothing circles on her belly. She pouted before she pushed away from him, headed for the bathroom. He returned to his chair, picking up the newspaper he had abandoned. “Mummy is having a rough day Angela,” he commented to his daughter who was currently caring for her doll in her play pen. The toddler glanced at him for only a moment, jumping when she heard her mother’s voice.

 “Are you all right?” he called, already scrambling to his feet and heading down the hall.

“My water just broke.”


	20. How do you not know how beautiful you are?

**_“How do you not know how beautiful you are?”_** Patrick asked, voice quiet as he approached his wife. She was sitting on the edge of the windowsill, the silvery moonlight cascading through the curtains and casting her in highlight and shadow, making her eyes glow in the near darkness of the bedroom. When he got to her side he relished in how she leaned against him, her head resting on his chest, shoulder pressing slightly into his stomach and tired sigh escaping her lips.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” she whispered, letting out a contented moan as he stroked her hair, easing the headache he knew she had been dealing with for the last few days.

“You didn’t wake me my love. I just knew you weren’t next to me anymore. I missed you,” he explained, his free hand coming up to help balance her arm, his eyes flicking to where the baby was nestled against her, suckling quietly.

“How did we get so lucky Patrick? I never thought I would have any of this. But here we are. We have three wonderful children, one of whom we were told would never be, and yet here she is. I don’t think I ever knew I could be this happy, even though I’m completely exhausted,” Shelagh murmured, laughing slightly as the infant pulled away from her breast, yawning.

“Looks like she’s tired too,” Patrick commented, gingerly taking the baby from Shelagh as she fixed her nightgown, watching him with tired eyes as he burped the baby against his shoulder. “That’s a good girl Charlotte, come on, back to sleep now,” he said, carrying their daughter towards the bed, Shelagh at his heels. As he lay down he rested Charlotte on his chest, holding her to him with one careful hand, opening his other arm to his wife as she curled up next to him, resting her head on his shoulder.  

“I love you,” Shelagh breathed, already slipping into slumber as she said the words, her accent thicker in the dark. Patrick kissed her forehead, watching Charlotte nuzzle against his nightshirt in the moonlight, her tiny fists clenching in the fabric.

“I love you too,” he answered, heart bursting with adoration for his wife and their children. “Thank you for giving me more than I ever imagined.”

 


End file.
